Heartless
by pinkpoland
Summary: Arthur Kirkland decides to volunteer at his city's hospital to visit and provide company with patients who rarely get visitors. He is assigned Francis Bonnefoy, a young man with a rare and incurable illness. A special relationship is formed between the two, but what is to come out of it? Everlasting cheer or heavy loss? FrUk - France x England Human AU
1. 1 - Volunteering

Life was rather boring and pointless. It droned on day after day; often times, we do the same routine without thought. We're controlled by invisible strings tied to whatever we believe is in the universe. We become mindless puppets who fulfill what needs to be done then retire to sleep before waking up and doing it all over again.

Arthur felt like a puppet. Every day was the same for the young male ever since he graduated school. He wakes up, drives his three year younger half brother, Alfred, to school, goes back home, drinks tea whilst watching the television, picks Alfred up, comes back to have another cup of tea to read a book or help Alfred with his homework, eat supper, then go back to sleep only to do it all over again.

It was a rather lazy routine, one Arthur had no shame to admit. Although, who could blame him? Once someone finishes their years of school, they desire a nice, long, pointless break before heading into adult life or further education.

Although, living this boring routine was getting rather strenuous in the mind for Arthur. He hated himself for simply wasting days when he could be doing something more productive.

"Why don't you volunteer somewhere?" Alfred inquired one morning, shoveling his cereal into his mouth. "I mean, you'll be doing something nice and, like, it looks good on you. Besides, it's actually pretty fun!"

"Volunteer? Where? I don't know anywhere that's open to volunteers." Arthur responded, biting into a jam smeared bagel.

Alfred blinked, thinking for a moment. "Oh! You can volunteer at the city hospital! They're always asking for volunteers!"

The mere idea made Arthur cringe. There was no way in hell would he go into a nasty, germ invested place to volunteer willingly. Who knew what bacteria caked the floors and hand rails. Who knew what airborne sicknesses wafted through the halls. Who knew what pained moans haunted the rooms.

He couldn't see himself volunteering there. He would inwardly die if he had to clean out bed pans, keep a sick child from throwing up, or even mopping the cafeteria floors. It all sounded too horrendous and displeasing for his taste.

"No, oh no, I'd rather not." Arthur declined bluntly. "I will not waste my days away in a bloody hospital."

Yet, even after his strong opposition towards the idea, here he was: standing at the front help desk, next in line to talk with the lady at the counter about volunteer hours.

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to touch anything around him. It smelt strongly of hand sanitizer and rubber gloves, sending unpleasant chills down the Brit's spine. Luckily, there wasn't many sick people waiting or strolling around so he didn't have to be extra careful about where he stood.

"Next?"

Breaking out of his thoughts, Arthur walked up to the front counter, putting on a fake smile.

"Good morning, sir. How may I help you?" The front desk lady asked with a cheery tone. It was the nice tone all doctors and nurses had to aid their patients with. Arthur knew this lady's tone was as fake as his smile.

"Good morning to you as well..." He looked at her name tag. "Miss Elizabeta. Um, I was just wondering if you have any volunteer spots open? Preferably ones where they aren't open to any graphic sights or things that could get one terribly ill."

The only reason why he was here was because of Alfred. The 16 year old was very persistent on Arthur volunteering at a hospital. Arthur had the slightest notion it was because Alfred knew how much he hated hospitals and feared doctors and all their medical procedures. But, in the end, he simply couldn't deny his brother's persistence.

"Lucky you, we actually have a new volunteer position open!" Elizabeta responded, pulling out a slip of paper. "Lately, we've been getting a lot of patients. Unfortunately, some of those patients don't get many visitors... So! The volunteering job would simply be to visit with those patients just for a few hours to keep them company."

Visiting patients? That didn't seem too bad... It was better than scrubbing rubbish off the floors.

"Are the patients contagious?" Arthur pried on, really wanting the most clean position for volunteering. It was a rather pretentious request, but, truthfully, Arthur couldn't care less.

Elizabeta chuckled lightly, catching on with what he wanted. With a smile, she nodded, "Yes, there is one patient who isn't contagious you could be a visitor to."

A patient who wasn't contagious? That was odd, but then again, that could just mean they were ill with a severe case or just recovering from an injury.

"Alright then." Arthur responded with a nod, putting back his fake smile, "I would like to volunteer to be a visitor for that patient then."

"Okay! I'll just need you to fill in this paper with your personal information so we know just who is volunteering." The lady slid the paper over to Arthur, giving him a black inked pen.

He took it and began to fill out the form.

"Oh! Almost forgot!" Elizabeta chimed, "When volunteering and consulting with the patients, we advise you to not pry on them about their medical condition. If they wish it, they will elaborate on it. Some may not. So, for their privacy and comfort, please do not try and ask too personal questions at first. You cannot take the patients out of the hospital without approval of their doctor. Also, please wash your hands before going into the rooms. Just to keep things clean and them well."

Arthur nodded at the rules, finding them simple. He wasn't one to socialize too much or desire to learn more about the other too much. Expected questions like "how are you?" or "what do you like?" are what often emitted from the Brit.

All seemed well, from Arthur's perspective. There would be no gross, unsanitary jobs. No sick people he would need to wipe the snot for or changing bloody bandages. No need to cook horrid food in the cafeteria, which would only end in disaster. Just visiting a patient for a few hours every couple days. That was easy enough.

After a few minutes, Arthur finished up with his form and was given a small card with the patient's information on it.

 _Name: Francis Bonnefoy_  
 _Room 2113 – Floor 5_  
 _LTC unit "Long Term Care"_

Francis Bonnefoy. Arthur quirked a brow, finding the name oddly foreign. It sounded French.

With a small shrug, he went to the elevator and gradually made his way up to where Francis Bonnefoy's room would be.

 **A/N:**

 **I decided to write this fanfic cause I got a splendid idea and I realized I have no pairing centered story on here wow. (Besides my UsUk one- but that's mostly just a diary oops). Plus, I love FrUk and I wanna show my love for it hnn.**

 **But yeah,**  
 **This is gonna be great, emotional, deep, a tad angsty, cute, and just one hell of a ride. Woo. I got a lot of things planned.**

 **Enjoy.**  
 **Let me know what you guys think so far. Sorry for the rough start.**


	2. 2 - Visitor

On his way to the room, Arthur couldn't help but feel the slightest bit nervous. Going to speak with a sick man whom he'd never met before and provide him some company for how many hours a week, yeah, it wasn't exactly the most comforting ordeal. Social awkwardness followed the Brit all throughout childhood and unfortunately followed him to adulthood.

Luckily, the halls of the LTC unit weren't that crowded. Arthur assumed it was because a majority of the patients were bedridden. This was the Long Term Care area anyways. They had to be in critical conditions to not venture out on their own.

With a bustle of thought, Arthur made it to Francis's room; 2113. It was closed off with a singular door. There was a card underneath the room number that gave off the same information as the card.

 _Patient: Francis Bonnefoy_  
 _Room 2113 — LTC Unit_  
 _Doctor: Dr. Vargas_

This was it. Why was he so nervous about doing this? It wasn't like he was planning on getting significantly close to the guy. He was simply here to let time pass and make him feel the least bit productive. Plus, he was only providing company, not initiating any type of relationship.

Furrowing his brows together, the Brit took a breath before raising a fist to gently knock on the door. Once knocking three times, he turned the door handle and pushed it open. Cool air immediately caressed his face.

"Hello? Mr. Bonnefoy? I do hope I'm not intruding on anything." Arthur spoke softly, unsure if the patient was asleep or trying to sleep or doing whatever patients did at hospitals.

Stepping in, Arthur saw Francis sitting upright on his bed.

Francis had the typical white hospital gown, it showing his prominent collar bones. Golden blonde hair draped over his shoulders, giving off a little shine from the sunlight peeking in through the window. His skin was beautifully white, although Arthur could probably hint it was more white than usual due to being in such a drab place. A light stubble played across his chin, giving off the feel that he was just a bit older than Arthur, but not by much.

Sapphire eyes blinked, blanketed in a faint confusion yet soft joy upon seeing the entering Brit.

"Are you my visitor today?" Francis questioned. Arthur blinked, a bit taken aback by the other's gentle French accent. "The nurse did say someone was here to see me. Although, sir, I doubt we have met before so I have no idea why you have come to visit me."

Arthur froze where he was for a second before clearing his throat, walking over to the seat beside Francis's bedside.

The man seemed rather polite, which pleased Arthur. He didn't know what he would've done if he was paired with a noisy, rude patient.

"Erm, yes, I am your visitor." Arthur responded, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm a volunteer here at this hospital and they told me you don't get many visitors... So, I'm here to provide you some friendly company."

Francis blinked at that, quirking a thin brow. A small smile upturned the corners of his lips as he looked over Arthur. The Brit's awkwardness did show off clearly, only making Francis grow even more interested in his visitor.

"Ah, visiting the lonely souls are a volunteer's job. How pitiful is that." The Frenchman joked, letting out a soft chuckle. "It is nice to talk to someone, though. It does get quite boring." He tilted his head a bit, letting some of his blonde hair to sway just a tad. "May I ask for my visitor's name? You already know mine, so I would love to learn yours."

"Arthur Kirkland." Arthur said, putting on a little smile. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Bonnefoy."

"Oh, please don't use such a formal tone with me. 'Francis' is fine. Going by looks, we are hardly that much older or younger than one another. 20?"

"I'm 19 about to turn 20."

"And I am 21."

Francis chuckled, grinning sweetly over at Arthur. The problem of initiating conversation and keeping one up was, obviously, not a problem. The patient was rather talkative or at least brought up points and topics that got them to talk. Lucky for Arthur who lacked just that.

This wouldn't be too bad, Arthur thought to himself. Talking with this guy. It's not like he's being forced to do anything more with him. Just simple conversation for an hour or so to keep him company. It seemed like a fairly easy task–

"Are you British?" Arthur broke out of his thoughts at the other's inquiry.

"Erm, yes. Yes, I am British. That could be clearly known by my proper accent."

Francis nodded, making a soft 'ah' sound. It wasn't an interested 'ah' or one that signified he had been wondering it for a long time. It mirrored the sound of someone who expected the answer with a slight judgmental aura.

Arthur frowned just a bit, "Why do you ask? Is there something wrong with being British?"

"Non, non. Nothing wrong." The Frenchman stated with a somewhat prideful smile. "It was simply something I was assuming by your odd accent and the exceedingly strong aroma of tea and something burnt."

A little twitch crossed over Arthur's facade as he listened to what the other said. He may have spoken too quickly upon his judgement on the other.

With a scoff, Arthur retorted, "Cheeky, are we now? Then I suppose you are from the French descent? That's clearly obvious by your snobbish remarks and hideous personality."

This earned a light laugh from Francis. He put a hand to his mouth as he did so, the slight action making Arthur purse his lips in irritation.

"Ah, and there is the stereotypical quick to anger temperament." The Frenchman cooed, a little smirk complimenting a quick wink. "I was only prodding fun at you. Your face really does heat up when you're teased, non?"

Arthur hadn't even realized the change in color in his face until Francis pointed it out. Rather awkwardly, he raised his hand to his face and started to rub it in a rather stupid attempt to wipe the light flush of pink off. Blushing or showing any odd emotion that didn't correlate to complete sincerity or gentlemanlike characteristics was highly frowned upon.

"Piss off."

"Wish I could. But, you see, I'm stuck in here God only knows how long."

"Then belt up, will you? No one asked for you to point out every bloody thing about me, Mr. Bonnefoy."

"Francis, please."

Francis enjoyed teasing the Brit. Sure, it was pretty rude of him to do so considering the man was volunteering to spend time with him and he'd been very lonely the past week or so. However, it simply couldn't be helped. He enjoyed messing around, and Arthur was a rather interesting person to poke fun at.

Fun didn't come so easily in a hospital room. That is, if you consider giving empty flirtatious remarks to the nurses. The responses to that were often giggles, glares, or witty comments. There was only so much you can do with those before it got boring. Francis was pleased to have someone else to socialize with.

They stayed silent for a few moments, simply shooting stares at one another— Francis with an amused gaze and Arthur with a cold glare.

Arthur opened his mouth to shoot another angry response but was cut short when the hospital room door opened.

A rather small looking man came in with brown almost auburn hair. He bore a bright smile and hazel eyes. Arthur honestly couldn't tell if that smile and happy aura around him was fake like the lady's downstairs or not.

"Good afternoon, Francis! How are you feeling today?" The man questioned in a cheery tone and a distinctive Italian accent. His eyes trailed to Arthur, a little gasp escaping his lips. "Oh! You have a visitor today? How wonderful!"

Arthur gave a weary smile, "Hello, yes, I'm Arthur. I'm a new volunteer here."

He raised his hand to give a small polite wave but was suddenly stunned with surprise when the Italian grabbed his hand and shook it jubilantly.

"Hi! It's so nice to meet you! We've been needing new volunteers here! I'm Dr. Vargas; Francis's doctor! Oh, it's a pleasure to see you here, Arthur!"

Arthur felt himself stiffen a bit at the other's extroverted attitude, forcing himself to let out an awkward laugh to mask his discomfort. Francis took note of the other's unease to close social interaction and laughed with him, but in a more teasing and mocking way.

"Bonjour, Feliciano." Francis greeted, using an informal way of addressing his doctor. "I am doing okay. I'm doing even better now that Arthur came to visit. It certainly brightened up my day."

He flashed a genuine smile at Arthur and was given frown in return. It was true though. He really did like Arthur's visit and was excited for the future ones to come.

Dr. Vargas let out a little chuckle, "Aw, that's great!" He turned to Arthur, "Well, I can't wait to see you come by again. It's so nice of you to do this. Not many people volunteer here so seeing someone actually wanting to makes everyone happy— the patients and the workers!"

Great. Now there really wasn't any way of turning back. Arthur knew he couldn't just stop seeing Francis after his annoying visit. That would be incredibly rude and he did not want to be known as a heartless man. Besides, a part of him was curious to continue visiting. Francis was still a stranger to him and he wondered who exactly Francis was. Why was he here? Why didn't anyone visit him? Why was he such a arsehole? All those questions.

"Oh! Francis," Dr. Vargas said, turning once again to the Frenchman, "Ludwig will be dropping by to give you your afternoon meal and medicine for you to take, okay?"

Francis nodded with a sigh, a look of distaste coming over his facade. "Okay... Just, please, bring something sweet with the meal. The food in this hospital is so bland it makes me want to cry."

Dr. Vargas chuckled, "I'll bring that up with Antonio. Him and my brother are working the cafeteria today, lucky for you."

A grin washed over the faint distaste on Francis's face at that. Wonderful. Dr. Vargas's brother and that Spanish cook always conjured up the best of foods. It was rare to find anything good in this god forsaken place but those two's food always made his taste buds dance.

"Arthur, I'd politely ask if you were to leave when Francis eats his meal and takes his medicine." Dr. Vargas said with the same smile. "I always like to give our patients privacy when taking their medicine, just out of consideration."

Arthur nodded, standing up from where he was sitting.

"That is quite alright, sir. I best be going now, anyways. I have to pick up my brother from school." The Brit said with a polite nod to Dr. Vargas.

He walked to the door before turning back to Francis.

"I'll see you again tomorrow."

Francis beamed happily at that, his eyes gleaming. "I'll be waiting."

Arthur cracked the slightest smile at that before pushing the door open and slipping out of the room.

This couldn't be too bad. The Frenchman did run his temper and was quite rude without a thought, but Arthur couldn't deny the interest he had on the other. He wasn't like everyone else. He wasn't exceedingly polite and careful with his words to pretend to be nice even if he disliked the other person. Francis seemed genuine in everything he said and did and, even though it could be quite irritating, it was said with confidence and the truth he believed.

Arthur respected that in a person. He hated people who were constantly putting a fake attitude and saying things they didn't completely mean. There was an extent to that, like if you were genuinely trying to protect someone's feelings or sensitivities, but not with every damn thing. Someone's hair is messy? Tell them, don't just say it's pretty. Some did bad on a test? Point it out, tell them they should strive better. Simple as that.

But that was Arthur's mindset. Not many had the same perspective. Henceforth, why Francis intrigued him so much.

"Wait, Arthur," the Brit halted in his steps when he heard Dr. Vargas call to him from across the hallway.

"Yes?"

The Italian caught up with him, slightly out of breath despite the room being only a few yards away.

"About Francis, since you'll be seeing him and being a consecutive visitor, I suppose I should let you know some things about him."

Arthur raised a brow before giving a slow, single nod for the doctor to continue.

"Well, you see, with Francis's condition, he can be rather... fragile. His body isn't as strong as an average human's and at times it's weaker than how it already is. So, I would like to advise you to not work him up too much or do anything that could get his heart rate up or blood pressure running. He's been pretty good at controlling all that and keeping himself calm but still. Just thought I'd let you know out of precaution."

Oh... so Francis was one of those patients. He wasn't contagious, he simply had a weak body. Weak by what? Arthur still didn't know the details nor was he wanting to pry further into it.

Instead, he simply smiled softly, "Alright. Thank you for telling me. I'll make sure to be aware of that."

Genuinely, Arthur pitied Francis just a tad. To just lie around in bed all day and doing nothing because your body restricted it. It sounded awful and dreadfully torturous. However, how much different was that then to how he had been the past month or so?

Arthur would wake up, lie or sit around, only moving to drive and pick Alfred up from school. That was all. He had the freedom to venture and do more in a day yet he continued to do nothing and be alone. It opened his eyes to see how much he'd taken advantage of his freedom. Did Francis wish have that freedom? Obviously. Arthur wondered if Francis desired to go out again, even if it was to pick up some lousy teenager in high school. That would be more travel then he'd ever do in a week.

Shaking those deep thoughts out of his mind, Arthur made his way back to his car to go pick up Alfred.

Tomorrow he'd go back to see Francis. Maybe he'd bring him something. Maybe he'd find something at the house to show him. The room was rather bland and Arthur wanted to entertain the poor man some way that didn't need him to get up and risk anything.

"Ha," Arthur whispered to himself with a little smile, "Tomorrow it is then."

 **A/N:**

 **I can't wait till I get deeper into this story. It's gonna be emotional and deep and meaningful and hnnn.**

 **How are you guys liking it so far?**

 **Please leave your feedback in the comments/reviews. I love to read them; they make my day aaa**


	3. 3 - Family

It was around 6pm that supper came around. Tonight was one of the common nights where Arthur and Alfred simply ordered food. Unfortunately, both brothers were gifted with the inability to cook good meals, nonetheless edible ones. Sometimes Arthur would make the attempt but it would almost always end in him cursing at a pot while Alfred dials up the Chinese restaurant five minutes away.

The owner of the restaurant had them saved onto his contacts so whenever they rang him up, he knew exactly what to cook.

It was that bad.

"...And then this fucking douchebag cut me in line! Like, bro, I was there first! I made sure to sonic dash from my AP history class to get there first!" Alfred rambled at the table, messily shoving a piece of orange chicken into his mouth. "So, he took the last chocolate muffin and I was left with a stupid blueberry one. I swear, I'll try again tomorrow but if that motherfucking–"

Arthur sighed, "Alfred... it's a flavored muffin. I'm sure you can buy those at any store in a two mile radius from our house. Just get one from there."

"No, Artie, you don't understand. It's a _chocolate_ muffin." Alfred explained, his tone serious as if this matter really was important. "Y'know what happens when you're one of the only guys to have a chocolate muffin? People come to you. Y'know what happens when they come to you? They ask for food. Y'know what happens when they ask? You have an excuse to talk to them."

"So, you want to talk to someone? Why not just go up to them without a muffin?" Arthur questioned, a tiny smile upon his lips at what Alfred may be inferring.

"What?! No! I can't do that!" Alfred exclaimed rather aghast, his cheeks tinting a faint red. "I can't just talk to him—"

"Ah, so it's a guy. I'm guessing you have a crush amongst one of your classmates, yes?"

The teen's eyes widened as he let out a groan. Alfred never really could hide or keep things vague with Arthur. Arthur had the tendency to always get whatever he wanted to know from Alfred. Whether it was homework he didn't do, a crush, or a detention slip— he found out one way or another.

"Fine. Yes. I have a crush." Alfred mumbled, poking at his food now with a light frown.

Arthur let out a gentle laugh, bringing his cup of water to his lips to take a sip.

"Don't worry, I won't go to your school and embarrass you." Arthur cooed in a teasing way, flashing a little smirk. "So, who's this lucky gentleman? Is he one of your friends? Have I met him?"

Alfred rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair in an annoyed way. And here was Arthur prying in for more information. The two brothers always annoyed one another in a way or picked fights occasionally. Alfred always grew irritated with Arthur's desire to know everything. Arthur grew irritated when Alfred had little care for his grades and how obnoxious he could get. Yet, at the end of the day, they always were the closest brothers. It was rare one of their fights or arguments would last more than a day.

"Look. His name is Ivan; he's in my gym class. We're... kind of friends. No, you haven't met him. That's all." Alfred grumbled, knowing he'd be teased and have this conversation brought up constantly from now on.

Arthur chuckled lightly, getting up from his seat to put his plate in the trash.

"Ah, alright. He sounds, from the very vague information you've given me, interesting. I would love to know more but I can tell from your lightly upset tone you wish not to elaborate further."

Alfred let out a little laugh, scraping the last bits of his food onto a fork and shoveling it in his mouth.

"Yeah, thanks. That'd be best." He said, licking his lips. "So, how was the hospital? You see any kickass life saving scenes?! Any bloody guys being rushed to the emergency room?!"

Arthur sighed, now starting to realize why Alfred wanted him to volunteer in a hospital in the first place. He wanted some 'epic' stories about the mind blowing cases and patients in there.

The Brit shook his head, going to the sink to start cleaning the few dishes that were in there.

"No, Alfred, I'm not volunteering in anywhere like that." This granted him a little 'aw' of disappointment. "Although, I do have to visit this one bloke every day. My volunteering duty is to be a visitor to a patient. That's it. Nothing adventurous or breathtaking or exciting."

Alfred tilted his head to the side, resting it against his hand. "A patient? Are they cool? Do they have like a bionic hand or leg?"

At times, Arthur really couldn't understand Alfred. He wondered if his dense and nonsensical mind was evident from him still being an adolescent or if he genuinely was that stupid. It was a wonder and a thought that constantly was brought to light in his mind.

"No... his name is Francis and he has a rare illness of a sort that makes his body weak. At least, that's what I gathered from it. It's quite pitiful. However, he seemed very pleased to have someone visit him so I suppose I shall be continuing my visits for however long is necessary or until his irritating remarks turn me mad." He responded furrowing his brows a bit.

Francis... Arthur had heard of patients and cases where they were bedridden and such from who knows what. Whether it's cancer, loss of limbs, broken bones or body parts, critical injury, etc. He was knowledgeable on various patients being restricted to staying in a room and staying in bed. Yet, with Francis, it was hard to imagine it.

The Frenchman looked just like anyone else, if excluding how he seemed just a tad skinnier than average. He had a full head of hair, a charming demeanor like someone who'd just come from a high up dinner party, and the ability to speak and converse as if he were in a coffee shop. Usually, patients were quiet and shy and their voice gave off their illness. Or, they lost their hair and they looked incredibly like whatever they had. Francis... looked almost normal.

"Hey, Arthur..." Alfred's voice broke through Arthur's thoughts.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Mom and Dad would be proud of you for doing this."

Arthur froze where he was, hands mid scrubbing one of the coffee mugs in the sink. For at least a minute, the only sound heard throughout the kitchen was the running water in the sink. Arthur bit his lip before stiffly continuing to clean the dishes.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you're being productive and going out of your way to help someone else." Alfred responded softly, eyes locked on his now empty plate. "They always were proud of us when we went out of our way to help the environment, mom especially. She always told us to put others' needs before our own. I think... they would be very proud of you for doing this."

Arthur felt his chest tighten a bit at Alfred's words, his eyes stinging with threatening tears. Would they be proud of him? It was hard to imagine it. Would they be proud of him graduating with a 3.8 and not a perfect 4.0? Would they be proud of him for just now getting off his arse and doing volunteer work at a hospital? It didn't look like something someone would be proud of. He only did it so he would have something to do. Not for anyone else's sake, solely for his own.

The topic of their parents always was a sensitive one. The only time it was okay to bring up was if it was Alfred or Arthur commencing it. Everyone else, as in close friends and family who lived in other states, knew to just leave it alone. They didn't want to upset the two brothers in any way. Alfred tended to bring up the topic more than Arthur though. He found comfort in grief when talking about it rather than trying to forget or suppress it. Arthur was different. He preferred to not speak about it and try to move on with life.

A little sniff was made as Arthur switched off he water. He raised his arm to wipe the few stray tears that managed to escape before turning back to Alfred.

"Come on, it's getting late," Arthur said after clearing his throat, deciding to change the subject, "Finish up your food. You still have some homework to do and I don't want you to go to school unprepared for your AP test tomorrow, alright?"

Alfred nodded, a tiny smile crawling over his lips as he noticed his brother's saddened tone.

"Yeah..." he said, playing along with changing the subject. "Besides, I'm still having a hard time remembering exactly what was traded through the Silk Roads and how ideas and cultures diffused throughout there. Sucks they didn't have Amazon Prime back then."

Both brothers had to be there for each other. No matter what they were there. Arthur aiding Alfred through his school and personal problems, making sure he stayed on task and didn't stray, and Alfred keeping Arthur in check and making sure his older brother was okay and moving along with his own life just fine.

"Belt up with that nonsense." Arthur scolded, "You mustn't mix your idiotic comments with the valuable information you really need to know. Now, ready to study?"

"Yes sir." Alfred responded, snickering at the added nickname as he dropped his AP textbook on the counter.

"Alright... Now, explain to me this, what increased the productivity and economy in India?"

"Oh! Oh! I know! The increase of manufactured goods and agriculture and the use of long distance trade! Hell yeah! I remembered something!"

"Ha, yes, yes. Good job."

Through thick and thin, they both were right beside the other, making sure they were okay.

 **A/N:**

 **Oops. I didn't know how to end the chapter sooooo there.**

 **Please leave your feedback in the reviews/comments! I love to read them and they motivate me on keeping on track with updating lmao.**


	4. 4 - Understanding

Visits went from two times a week to once every two days. They started to become more frequent and when it came to taking leave, Arthur and Francis found it extremely saddening. Both desired for the other to stay longer but neither voiced that. Arthur couldn't tell if his desire to stay with the Frenchman was due to his need to pass time and be productive without feeling guilty every day for not doing anything. Francis was too scared to say anything due to being desperate for some type of company that wasn't just nurses and his doctor.

Nonetheless, their unvoiced thoughts effected both in a positive manner for their visitation hours gradually began to lengthen.

It was September and the fall colors began to blend and take over the dying summer. Trees began to glow a beautiful orange and yellow, their leaves drifting through the air and clustering against buildings and street curbs. The weather grew chilly to the point where sweaters and scarves were began to appear on every pedestrian.

Arthur shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling content with the warmth his simple grey beanie provided him. He didn't mind the sudden drop of temperature. In all honesty, he preferred the cold rather than the heat. It complimented his emotions.

When he entered the hospital that afternoon, he found it exceptionally busy. It appeared many had fallen ill from the weather and the hospital was in a rush. Groaning, Arthur trudged into an open elevator and silently prayed he wouldn't catch a cold.

Once reaching the LTC unit, the Brit felt a little smile crawl over his lips.

He couldn't wait to see Francis again. The Frenchman regained his liking after a few more visits. Of course, the man was still awfully annoying and seemed to enjoy picking at his British backgrounds and appearance, but other than that, the Brit found the other very nice. They talked about what they liked and even found some similarities.

Arthur simply couldn't wait to share another friendly conversation with Francis. He couldn't explain... there was just something that tethered his interest to the sick man.

Once at the door, Arthur knocked on its surface before entering.

"Francis, it's me–" He greeted softly, stopping once he saw Francis.

The long haired blonde was sitting upright in bed, holding a phone to his ear. His eyes shined from the sun out the window yet they weren't bright like the world outside. A curtain of faint despair mirrored off of them as an empty sigh escaped his lips. Francis glanced up when Arthur entered, forcing a quick smile to the Brit before focusing back on whoever was speaking on the other line of the phone.

" _Je suis désolé. Nous ne disposons pas de l'argent_." Francis responded in French. "I know... but, mama can't take you. Matthew, please don't cry. _Si vous plâit... Matthew."_

Matthew? Arthur had never heard of that name mentioned in their past conversations. It made him wonder. Through the stillness of the room, Arthur could hear the faint voice of a boy crying on the phone. A jumble of words were mixed in with those cries, only Francis seemed to understand them.

"I'll come to visit once I'm better, okay? I promise." Francis continued speaking after a good minute after hearing Matthew's tearful response. "Stay with Mama and keep her company. She needs you, Matthew. You can do that for me, non? Once I get better, I promise I'll see you again. Your big brother never breaks his promises, okay? So, you must trust me on that."

Arthur lowered his gaze upon hearing what Francis said. Oh... It sounded like 'Matthew' was Francis's brother— his little brother to be more precise. Apparently he wanted to see Francis and Francis simply could not due to his state.

"...Is that mama?" Francis questioned, eyes lighting up in a faint bittersweet. The corners of his lips twitched into a hopeful smile as soft murmurs were made on the other side of the phone. "Tell her I say hello... Yes... Oh, okay.." he bit his lip, blue eyes gleaming with a thin sheet of tears. " _Je t'aime, Matthew... Au revoir_."

With that, Francis set down his phone and tapped the 'end' button on his phone. An uneasy silence blanketed over the hospital room as he slowly set his phone beside him on the bed.

"Was that family?" Arthur asked after a moment, putting as much delicacy and hesitance on the question. He knew how sensitive the topic of family could be for some people. It could awake unwanted memories or painful past depending on their history.

Francis swallowed thickly with a flickering smile.

"Yeah... that was my little brother, Matthew. He lives with our grandmother in France." He responded softly, picking absentmindedly at the edge of the thin hospital blankets. "I used to, um, take care of him before I fell ill..."

"You take care of your brother?" Arthur inquired curiously, unsure if he was being too nosy.

Thankfully, Francis chuckled and accepted his question with an open attitude. "Yes... I used to. My father left my mother when I was five years old— Matthew wasn't born yet. When I turned 17, my mother passed away and Matthew needed someone to take care of him. He's 13 years old now."

Arthur nodded, mind turning with interest and dismal relation to the other's situation. He couldn't imagine having to give Alfred up after the loss of their parents. Even if Alfred was only a few years younger, he still wouldn't want to part ways with him and entrust his safety with anyone other than him. Francis was 21 and Matthew was 13— that was an 8 year difference.

"I apologize; I didn't mean to be such of a downer today." Francis mumbled with a sigh, eyes drifting down to the bland sheets the hospital provided.

There was an awkward silence that began to settle, putting discomfort both on Francis and Arthur. Internal conflict pulled Arthur around his mind. Should he say something to comfort the other? Was he even in a position to do such a thing? Would that make the situation worse? Obviously, the Brit was extremely ignorant upon the concept of basic socialization. It was usually something he tended to avoid. Yet, right now, it didn't seem like he could avoid it.

"...You don't have to apologize. I understand what you're going through."

Arthur found the words falling off his tongue before he could take it back. Immediately, he bit his lip, inwardly yelling at himself. Shit. Talking to people— that alone was a stretch for the young adult. Opening up and talking about personal topics? Hell no. That was one of the biggest 'no's in his book. Especially if it had to do with his parents.

He saw Francis's demeanor brighten just a tad, slightly relieved. Slightly.

"You... do?" The Frenchman's interest on the other loosened Arthur a bit more. Maybe talking about it with only Francis isn't so bad... It is Francis, a patient with no visitors only with the company of doctors and nurses who could care less about people's gossip and interest.

"Yeah." Arthur sighed, granting a tiny smile. "My parents died in a car crash about two years ago... I take care of my younger brother, Alfred. He's in his sophomore year of high school right now."

He paused for a second, looking over at Francis awkwardly. To his surprise, Francis was wide eyed and practically leaning towards him a bit, obviously intrigued in what was being told.

"How did they die?"

Obviously, Francis wasn't as considerate and hesitant upon saying such possible insensitive things. However, seeing as how far he managed to even discuss this topic, Arthur didn't feel flustered by it.

"Car crash." Arthur stated with a sad chuckle. "We were driving back home from one of Alfred's academic decathlon events and, well, a pathetic drunkard just happened to cut our drive short... Alfred and I were sitting in the back so we didn't get significantly hurt, only broken bones and such. Our parents... they died on the spot. I don't remember much from that day. I just remember we were talking about a family trip we could do the next year. Dad mentioned Florida, Mom wanted to go to England to visit her parents, Alfred wanted to go to Las Vegas, and I genuinely couldn't care less... I guess I'll never figure out where we could've gone. Before we could come to a conclusion they just..."

Arthur stopped talking when he felt a gently thumb caress his cheek gently. He hadn't even noticed the silent stream of tears that cascaded down his pale cheeks. Francis, arm outstretched to wipe Arthur's face, bore a pitiful facade as he gazed over at the other.

"I-I apologize... I shouldn't of said all that." Arthur quickly stated, clearing his throat as he tried to cease his tears. They continued to fall yet his composure remained indifferent.

This was the exact reason why he never opened up nor spoke about himself with anyone. Most of the time, he'd be overtaken by grief or emotion and have his neutral mask lifted off of him. The Brit hated being true to his feelings with anyone that wasn't Alfred. Alfred was probably the closest person to see Arthur emote without any restriction.

"You don't need to apologize." Francis said softly, casting a small smile towards Arthur. "Sometimes you just need to let it out... and, going by my own experiences, I understand."

Usually in a predictable and corny movie moment, the hard person would break down after being given the okay and allow themselves to be comforted. They would cry and the other would reassure them. After the crying, they would stop crying and the comforter would stare at them. They would stare back. There would be dramatic music playing in the back, cueing the obvious 'a relationship had just been formed' moment. That certainly could happen... if this wasn't Arthur.

Arthur cleared his throat, sitting back a bit. He regained his indifferent facade once again, drying up any more tears that threatened to fall.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I don't need to let it out— I am doing completely fine."

Francis sighed softly, lying back on his bed. He didn't pry Arthur any further to be true to his emotions and inner grief. He wasn't in any position to do so. It was Arthur's choice if he chose to continue to vent and completely open up.

A tiny moment of silence spread across the room before Francis broke it.

"My father left my mother and I when I was younger. Mother was pregnant with Matthew when he left. I think that was the reason he left... I doubted he ever loved my mother. I don't even see him as a genuine father." Francis chuckled bitterly, eyes trailed up to the ceiling. "A few years ago, Mother fell ill with a terrible illness. I can't quite remember what it was but it was severe. She died while I was still in school... I had to drop out in order to take care of Matthew. He doesn't quite remember her since he's still pretty young. I enlighten him every now and then about her... I did my best to care for him while I was able to. However, I had to send him to the only other family we had left which was our grandmother..."

He looked over at Arthur with a gentle smile. He reached over to grasp Arthur's hand in his pale one, squeezing it softly.

"It seems we are in similar situations, non?"

That was a fact Arthur couldn't deny. To be exact, it was quite surprising. He truly never thought anyone would understand his current situation. Everyone else lived normal lives with loving, whole families and their future set in stone. It felt like no one was just drifting in a repetitive wave of uncertainty, mixed with the stress and loss of needing to take care of your small family.

Arthur nodded, feeling his lips tug into an equal smile.

"I suppose we are."

 **_**  
 **A/N:**

 **No joke.**  
 **I wrote three sentences and didn't continue with another few sentences weekly for this chapter.**  
 **Writer's block sucks rip.**

 **anyways, I got something out! woo! enjoy!**

 **please leave your feedback in the comments/reviews! I love reading them.**


	5. 5 - Bittersweet

_A strong of laughter entwined with everyone at the table, equally complimented with bright smiles. A soft jazz music wafted through the air, obviously derived from the skillful pianist and singer upon the center stage. Food was laid out on the table for all to eat: breadsticks, meat, cups of water and soda, a bowl of vegetables, and more. They always did order a ton of food. Half of the people at the table tended to eat like pigs while the other two hardly ate more than half. What a contrast._ _Arthur sat at the end of the table, locked into a conversation with their dad. His hands moved excitedly as if painting out through the air what he was saying. It could probably be guessed that it had something to do with adult hood and after school. That was the hot topic nowadays with Arthur. Conversation on whether he wanted to go to college in the UK or if he wanted to stay in the States. Whatever he chose would be praised and supported no doubt. He had just graduated and was on the brink to a new life*_ _Turning his head to the side, Alfred caught his mother's gaze. She was smiling at him, reaching over to wipe some smeared food off his lip. The touch was faint yet still there. Alfred smiled back, simply taking in the moment. The comforting jazz music. The sight of his brother and father talking as pip as they usually did. The sight of his mother still caring for his appearance like a child and smiling. It all was so vivid._ _Suddenly, everything went black._ _Alfred found himself in the car. He was leaning against the side door in an odd angle, everything around him being blurred. The jazz music was drowned out by the deafening sound of police sirens and people's screams. The warmth of the restaurant was quickly replaced with an eerie chill. It ensnared his shivering body as he rested weakly against the car door. Turning his head, Alfred caught sight of Arthur sitting beside him. The boy was resting forward on the seat, blood dripping from his head. His eyes were closed and his face was pale._ _"Arthur?" Alfred called out weakly, pain prodding his body at that mere attempt to speak. He reached over as much as he could to take his brother's hand and shook it weakly. No response. His hand was limp yet warm. Faintly._ _Looking up to the front seat, Alfred glimpsed the sight that would never leave his mind again._ _His father was resting against the car wheel, eyes open but unseeing. His arm was outstretched across to the passenger seat where they were weakly against his mother's chest... She rested against her side window, blood painting the side of her face and window. Her eyes, equal as her husband's, were open and dead. No one in the car moved._ _Alfred's breathing hitched and he forced himself up, reaching over to shake his parents' shoulders._ _"M-Mom? Dad? Wake up, please. Come on, wake up, please." The American choked, tears stinging his eyes. He turned quickly to Arthur, ignoring the twinge in his side and leg. He shook Arthur as well, silently praying that someone would beckon to his call._ _"Arthur! Please, answer me!" He cried out._ _The police sirens grew evermore louder along with the faint wails and noises of concern from those outside. The blood on the windows began to stretch before they covered everything. The air chilled to the point where it was unbearable. Everything was overwhelming and simply too much to handle. Alfred felt his breathing quicken and shorten as he sat back in the car seat. His eyes were wide, taking in the image of his still dead parents and crimson colored brother._ _All were hurt. They were dead. He was alone. He was all alone-_ Arthur was awoken from his sleep from the sound of strained cries and frantic breathing. The digital clock that was propped up on the bedside table blinked 3:05am. Blinking away the sleep from his eyes, Arthur turned on his side to look at the other bed beside his own. In the identical twin bed, Alfred's outline was seen sitting upright, his shadow heaving in the dark. Cracking sobs emitted from the distraught boy, awaking Arthur even more. "Alfred? Are you alright?" The eldest brother asked, getting off of his bed and sitting on the side of the bed beside Alfred. Alfred flinched a bit when Arthur sat by but instantly flung himself on the other once he comprehended that this was indeed reality. Arthur was here and alive. He alone was alive. With cracking sobs, Alfred buried his face into Arthur's shoulder, holding onto him as if afraid to let go. "P-Please don't go; I can't lose you too... I can't lose you." The boy wailed, words barely audible from his gasps and sorrow stricken voice. "Arthur, please- I don't want you to go. Don't go. D-Don't go." This wasn't the first time Alfred had awoken in sweat and tears, completely in disarray from reality. It happened frequently ever since the loss of their parents. Yet, no matter how many times it happened Arthur took matters into his own hands as delicate and gentle as he could. Even if it meant repeating the same words and actions a million times. "Shh, Alfred, it's alright. I'm here." The brother reassured, stroking the tear stained boy's hair softly. "I'm not going anywhere I promise. I'm staying right here with you." Truly, Arthur couldn't understand why it was only Alfred who tended to wake with such nightmares. Ever since their parents death, grief and loss seemed to affect him in an entirely different way. Alfred was left with constant nightmares and easily triggered by certain things to relive all of that. It was easier for him to have a breakdown. However, with Arthur, he simply couldn't fathom how much less of a reaction he gave than his brother. Sure, he had nights where he couldn't sleep, forever haunted by that crash and waking up in a hospital bed parentless. The only other substantial effect he could think about was his increase in smoking and depression. That was all. Part of him grew guilty because of that fact but another part was semi grateful. With a lesser weight on his shoulders, he'd be strong enough to help his little brother along the way if needed. "I-I was there again. You were dead and-and mom and dad and-" Alfred hiccuped, hugging Arthur tighter as he spoke. Arthur, not even bringing to light how Alfred was practically suffocating him , continued to rub the other's back and whisper soft words of care and love into his ear. Throughout these many experiences, he learnt that was what calmed Alfred down most. "You're alright, Alfred. I promise." Arthur breathed, smiling just a tad when he noticed Alfred's slower breathing and dying cries. So, he continued. "You're safe. We're in our bedroom. It's- my God, it's 4am. I'm here living and breathing and quite tired. You're here as well. Everything is okay." Alfred sniffed, nodding silently with a few stray whimpers still escaping his lips. The two sat there on the bed for a few more minutes in simple silence, letting time do its work to calm unnerved feelings. Arthur kept the embrace tight and unwavering, doing his best to continue reassuring his little brother with mere movement and physical contact. There was a limit to what words could do and sometimes you just had to resort to other branches of help. After about five minutes passed, Alfred completely calmed and pulled back from Arthur's arms. Blue eyes were cried raw and gleamed brokenly from the dim lit room. "Thank you." The boy responded softly, chewing his bottom lip absentmindedly as if to keep any late tears from breaking through. There wasn't much else to say upon the subject. Now that the tears were over, sleep and how tired he was began to come back to light. "I'm sorry, again. I didn't mean to wake you up." Arthur smiled gently, nodding his head in a motion to imply Alfred to lie back down. He did so with relief. "There is no need to apologize. I would wake a hundred nights just to make sure I was here to calm you down. Just, get some rest now. You have to wake up in two hours for school. It's never a good feeling to only get a few hours of sleep. Trust me." Alfred smiled slightly at his brother's words, eyes drooping as he rested his head upon his pillow. Arthur didn't move from where he sat on the side of the bed. He continued to rub Alfred's back gently and stayed by his side till he was sure his brother was completely and happily asleep. These nights did feel like a hundred. At the beginning, Arthur kept track of how many nights Alfred awoke with nightmares, thinking the amount might have been helpful in regards to their therapist they had seen at the beginning. However, by the thirtieth night, Arthur had lost track and simply kept it as 'many'. A twinge in his heart made him furrow his brows in the slightest as he gazed at Alfred's expressionless sleep. Oh, what he would do to take away his nightmares and hurt. If he could, he would put Alfred's nightmares as his own. As much as he was semi grateful he didn't have such of an emotional burden, he still wished Alfred could have not have to deal with such things. Through time, Arthur hoped he would move past all this grief. There had to be someway it could be fixed or, at least, dealt with more accurately. Pushing away those thoughts from his tired mind, Arthur let his ideas wander into what the next day's events ahead. _ **A/N:** **Sorry this took ages. I don't like Hetalia anymore- quite frankly, it makes me very upset. A lot of people in the fandom have been incredibly rude and disrespectful to me and, honestly, it's made me not even want to continue my stories.** **I'm still going to because I did promise I would finish every story but don't badger me every week for a new chapter. It takes forever for me to write for something I don't care about anymore.** **Anyways, enjoy. Sorry it became half assed towards the end.** \- Matt 


End file.
